Basket of Eggs.

It felt like everything was unraveling around me. Things hadn't gone according to my plan. To be honest, things really hadn't followed any plan and instead felt like I had pulled a string on a sweater, and ended up in a strange predicament. 

All of my eggs were in one basket. 

And now, the basket had been turned upside down, and I was left to pick up the eggs. 

After things went tumbling down, I was surrounded by a small group of people who had decided to take on the difficult task of helping me collect the eggs. While I was standing there in the messy mess of eggshells and egg yolks of my life, these kind souls picked me up, and reminded me who I was. They each spoke to me like people who loved me, because, I'm realizing, they do. They do, honestly and wholeheartedly, love me, regardless of the mess.

I've been able to see the presence of God in unmistaken, tangible ways, and this is through the presence of the sweet relationships that I have in my life. Old friends who have loved me through hard times, through the bootcut-jean/tennis shoe phases, and through my happiest years that were full of smiles and laughter. But I have also been so blessed with new friends. Friends who just fell into place, out of nowhere. New friends, who don't know me as "someone's girlfriend" or as the high school cheerleading captain, but simply as the person that is in front of them-- the person I am now. These are the friends who showed up, in full armor, to help put the pieces back together. They didn't see me as broken or uncool. They saw me as someone who was unprepared for battle, but were willing to stand in the trench alongside me and help face whatever unknowns were ahead of us.

For so long, I have been the strong one. I'm the one they come to when relationships fail, or their family is driving them up the wall, or they can't figure out what they want to be when they grow up. I'm a listener, a counselor, and a straight-shooter when it comes to advice. 

When I became the one who needed advice, I couldn't bring myself to make that call for help. I didn't want people to see that side of me, because honestly, I didn't want to see that side of myself. I hid behind my wall of false strength and confidence. I hid behind it because, though it wasn't a safe place, I felt hidden and less vulnerable than I would have had I exposed myself to the elements of honesty and cliche advice. (And one thing I hate is cliche advice.)

I made a lot of excuses during that time, a few even legitimate. Excuses of why I had to be strong, of why I had to appear like nothing was wrong, of why I couldn't accept help from anyone besides myself. 

However, pretending to be okay gets old... and exhausting... and mildly concerning.

I realized that if I am just myself and if I just let others be themselves, things get a lot better. I don't have to stuff people into tiny compartments of what I want them to be for me or what I need at the time. I have to let them be them. And I have to let me be me.

I will always be a counselor. I will always be a listener. I will always be a realist. But, I cannot always be that for myself. I have learned that life cannot (and should not) be done alone. 

Sometimes 18-year-olds trying to figure out college and life make me nervous. They tell me their dreams and their goals and the exact way everything is going to happen over the course of the next 10 years. They know their major, their graduation date, their expected GPA, the person they will marry, and even the venue for their summer Saturday wedding. They have planned out what age they will have kids, and what internship they'll get next fall, and even know what states they'll travel to when they retire. 

Those Freshmen... I could be mean. I could laugh, and tell them that their plans will eventually fail them. I could tell them that their GPA won't be what they want and the wedding venue might be booked and the internship will be unpaid and the major they chose actually isn't even enjoyable... I could go on and on. But why? Sometimes you have to experience it for yourself before you fully understand.

I sit in my office across the desk from these students and internally scream. They don't have back-up plans. They have a Plan A. They are motivated and ready and prepared... but not really. If one Jenga block gets pushed in the wrong direction at the wrong time, the tower falls. Then what? What will you do with a fallen tower and a pile of blocks? 

Hopefully someone will be there to help you pick up and reassemble the tower.

One thing that I know, one thing that I'm sure of: In times of botched life plans, relationships are key.When things happen to us, we have to learn how to talk about it to others. Keeping it bottled inside doesn't do us any good-- actually, it does much more harm to both ourselves and others around us. I've been guilty of this in the past. I'm a bottler... but I'm learning. I'm actively trying to be a sharer instead of a bottler. I share what's on my heart-- to friends, to students, and sometimes, even to strangers. Opening up removes the weight and normalizes the situation. It's not about the advice we receive, but about hearing ourselves open up and formulate words about our emotions and our heartbreak and our fears. And that can make a world of difference. We hear it come out of our mouths, and in turn, start to understand what can change. We have to have listeners in our life.

Life doesn't always go as planned.

So I finally had to let down my wall.

I had to open up my heart.

I had to let people be there for me, just like I had been there for them.

Working with Freshmen in college on a daily basis has taught me a lot of things. Patience, mostly, but also the importance of sharing your burdens with others. Freshmen are scared, and nervous, and stressed, and occasionally even clueless about most things.

Because what I've found out time after time, it's the people that stand beside you that make the difference. The people who push you. The people who make you laugh. The people who will tell you a little lie and say, "He was a real loser anyways." The people who don't care if you cry. The people who will be there, no matter what.

So, instead, I tell them, "Just don't put all your eggs in one basket."

I say this, and they generally giggle, and shake their heads.

I say it from a place in my heart of genuine concern, but also as a simple reminder to myself.

If you decide to put all of your eggs in one basket, make sure there are people around you to help you clean up the mess and talk about what's next.